


Stars in the Morning Sky

by PodgeAudge



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22683724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PodgeAudge/pseuds/PodgeAudge
Summary: "He would not take this for granted. Even if he was no more than a beast and she the goddess incarnate. Even if his filthy hands had no right touching something so good, so pure. He would do what he should have done long ago had he not been such a coward."Small meditations on lost scenes and AUs.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	Stars in the Morning Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Gore and Horror Imagery  
> Points if you get the chapter title reference!

Dimitri could run no longer. His eye throbbed. His legs ached from mad running. His hands were numb and crusted with frost and the chilled wind stung his cheeks and nose. His lips cracked and bled in the cold. His lungs constricted and ached. Finally, his knees gave out and he dropped into the half frozen mud with a sickening squelch.

He'd just barely made it out alive. Just barely escaped his own execution in his own kingdom by his own men. Now here he was, running for his life; a wanted criminal hiding in a filthy alley. If his life were not already so, he would have questioned if this were all some sort of sick joke. But no, the Goddess had taken a particular liking to his suffering. Against his better judgement, he prayed she take pity on him and gift him at least a minute’s rest.

But just as he leaned his back against a wall, the searing pain in his head flared anew. He sucked in a shaky breath and rocked back and forth, cradling his eye. Or what was left of it. A well swung bat missed his temple but caved in his eye all the same. What remained of it was crushed and gushing out blood.

 _"Pathetic,"_ spat Glenn. Dimitri didn't have the energy to answer. Soon the pain swelled and bloomed like a sun, searing his skull and throbbing painfully with each beat of his heart. His vision blurred at the edges and darkened.

How did it come to this? The monastery destroyed. He, convicted of a murder he didn't commit. Dedue forced to sacrifice himself. Dimitri forced to see that strong and mighty back curled down as soldiers savagely beat him to the ground; the most honorable man he’d ever met.

And the Professor...

Oh, _the Professor,_ gone without a trace. Leaving not even a body to mourn over.

And it was all _her_ fault. That _woman._

He had to kill her. She was the cause for all their suffering. For all the bloodshed. For all the pointless killing and wasted lives. And now she was living in luxury in Enbarr. He could almost see her now, bathing in the blood of his loved ones and laughing with glee.

He fell to the ground. The voices moaned around him, and he dragged himself pitifully through the mud, inch by inch. Whatever it took, he would reach Enbarr. He would kill that woman. He ignored the black spots flashing across his vision. _I will kill that woman!_ Blood roared in his ears. _I swear it!_ The world dimmed around him. _I swear…._

In spite of his rage and determination, his vision left, and he felt himself falling into the darkness.

* * *

When Dimitri opened his eyes, he saw not the clouds of Faerghus but a dark sky lush with stars. He sat up and looked around. He was still covered in mud and blood, but now he sat upon a moonlit stone. When he looked out, there, cradled in rock, stood Garreg Mach, tall and proud, like it had rebuilt itself after Edelgard's siege, and was all the stronger for it. The towers rose to kiss the stars, fading into the sky. The distant windows glowed golden like warm fairy lights.

Pulled by the warmth of memories he no longer had the luxury of entertaining, Dimitri stood and made his way up the hill to the monastery. When he crested the hill and passed under the gateway, there was no one to greet him. No guards to stop him. No Empire soldiers to slaughter him. Further in, the courtyards were just as empty. Once, Dimitri could hear the clang of metal and his friends’ laughter in the air. Now they stood eerily empty and quiet. There was no one left for him, now.

Then he heard music. But that couldn’t be, thought Dimitri. He listened more closely...

Yes, there it was! It was just a whisper of a tune but further inside was the lilting tone of violins. Perhaps that was where he would find everyone. Dimitri set off in the direction of the sound.

He walked through the empty, pristine hallways. Lanterns and candelabras were lit with no one to attend them. The carpets were plush and clean for guests yet no boots save his own trod over them. His footsteps echoed. Not a soul stirred. Yet the dulcet melody seemed to resonate through the walls.

Then, out of nowhere, a group of children raced out in front of him. Three to be exact. First was a young Ingrid, almost swallowed in a chest plate as she brandished a ladle and cried out for battle. Then followed Sylvain, just a few years older, beginning to feel awkward in his growing body. And lastly came Felix, trying his best to keep up on his little legs, crying for them to slow down. It was as if all the time that had passed had been nothing more than a bad dream and they were all still children playing at being knights in the castle courtyard. They ran into the next room. 

Lastly, a little girl ran in; a small Edelgard chasing after her newfound friends, her sweet brown pigtail bouncing along with her. She stopped when she noticed him. The music grew louder. Dimitri forgot how small and innocent she had been. Trying her best to appear grown up and level-headed in front of everyone even when she carried around her favorite doll.

"Dima!" she cried. "Come on, Dima!" Then she too disappeared around the corner.

"Wait! El!" he cried, but she was gone. Dimitri chased the sound of childrens' laughter and little running footsteps through twisting and turning hallways, around corners, and through classrooms, but only just barely caught a glimpse of them. He vaguely realized the music was rising to a crescendo, louder and louder the further he went.

He finally raced into the ballroom, and the music cut out. He looked around but there were no children in sight. There was _no one_ in sight. But this had to have been the source of the music. Dimitri’s heart sank; he was still alone.

With nothing else to do, he wandered inside. The Ballroom looked just as he remembered it the night of the White Heron Cup. Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a golden glow over the room. The ornate floors gleamed in the candlelight. Bouquets of roses red as blood on snow perched upon neatly placed tables. Even the flutes of champagne were still there, sitting on the tables as if they had just been placed down by the guests. Yet there were none.

Dimitri combed his fingers through his hair, and was surprised to find they did not catch on tangles. He looked down at himself. No longer was he covered in grime and dried blood. His hair shone gold, bangs cropped neatly over his brows. He wore a white suit embellished with gold regalia and clean gloves. He looked just like the perfect fairy tale prince he was always trying to pretend to be. But how….?

"Dimitri,"

He turned. And there, just a few steps from him, was his father, healthy and whole, looking just as he did the morning of his death. Lambert stood tall and proud; almost larger than life compared to Dimitri’s scrawny frame. The crest of their house shone proudly on his chest plate, proof that he alone held the birthright and strength to be king. A man and a king. Both of whom Dimitri could never hope to be.

How could he face his father after everything he'd done? His father, his king, ordered him to exact his revenge, and so far he'd been prancing around playing at school boy. He immediately began platitudes,

"Father, forgive me! I will avenge your death, I will-" But the king put his hand up, and Dimitri instantly fell silent. Dimitri waited for the condemnation. It never got easier over the years, yet he knew he fully deserved it. But instead, the King walked up to Dimitri and placed his large, warm hands firmly on his son's shoulders.

"I am proud of you, my son," Lambert said. "You have become a fine man."

_What?_

Was his hearing correct? Perhaps he had misheard. But Lambert’s hands were warm on his shoulders and his smile was warmer. Despite every instinct in him telling him not to trust this, Dimitri's heart filled to the brim. Did he even deserve such words?

"Father," was all Dimitri could say. He could do nothing but take his King's hand and kiss it in silent gratitude. Then Dimitri felt a cool touch on his cheek. There, next to his father, was his step mother. The only mother he ever knew. Lambert looked down lovingly at her and for once she did not shy from his touch as he rested his hand securely on her hip. Patricia looked more alive than he’d ever seen her. Her brown hair shone and cascaded down her back. She wore a traditional Faerghus gown, no longer swallowed in a coat for protection against a cold she was not accustomed to. She exuded warmth and grace and confidence. And her gaze was no longer distant, as if searching beyond the horizon. Instead, she looked into his eyes with warmth and love, focused entirely on him.

"My boy," was all she said with a smile. It was all Dimitri had ever wanted her to say. She took Dimitri's hand and led him further into the ballroom, and he followed, in awe.

She led him to a figure nearby. There, next to a chandelier, standing straight, tall, and proud, was Dedue. There were no scars, no cuts, bruises, or breaks of any kind over his body. The candlelight warmed his skin, rough but untouched. Dimitri released his step mother. He crossed the distance between he and his friend with just a few strides and grasped him from behind the neck. He placed their foreheads together; his dearest friend, his brother in all but blood.

"I regret nothing.” Said Dedue, and Dimitri almost couldn’t believe it. After everything? “I am proud to follow a man like you." Then he pulled away. From out of nowhere, Glenn stood beside him, knightly armor glinting brilliantly in the candlelight. He bowed deeply.

“My Prince,” he said. Dimitri was speechless. “There is someone who wishes to speak with you.” He stepped aside to reveal another person standing just behind him.

 _“El,”_ he breathed. Edelgard smiled gently. She had the same smile as her mother, _his_ mother, and hair the same beautiful light brown. Here stood a proud, intelligent, kind young woman unmarred by the tragedies of reality.

"I carved my own path," she said. In her voice was a warmth he'd never heard before. "Thanks to you, I'm free to live my life the way I want to." His heart was going to burst. He didn’t think he could take any more. Yet she simply grinned at him and nodded her head toward the center of the room, where one last visitor called out to him. 

“Dimitri.”

_No._

That _voice._

He turned, and there she stood, golden and glowing.

His professor.

She wore a white, gossamer dress. He could see the gentle curve of her hips and the sweep of her thighs hidden behind the sheer fabric. Flowing sleeves fell like water off her shoulders, leaving the supple skin there bare. Her mint tresses cascaded down her back, shining in the golden light. And she was looking at him with _that expression._ The one with the gentle curve of her lips, the softness in her eyes and the blush dusted across her cheeks. She stood in the golden light like a goddess of mercy. _She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen._ She extended a graceful hand toward him, offering, beckoning, with nothing but admiration and forgiveness in her eyes.

He couldn't help it. He burst into tears like a little boy.

His feet moved on their own accord. He stepped toward her, drawn to her like a moth to a beacon.

_Like a sinner before the gates of the heavens._

When he reached her, he placed his arms around her, gently, _reverently_ ; one on the small of her back, the other cradling a tiny, fragile hand. She did not balk or pull away. She did not condemn him. She simply slipped her free hand over his shoulder and lifted a fold of her white dress. He looked down at her. He couldn't believe she was right here in his arms, after all this time, fitting like she was made to be there.

"Here you are," she smiled fondly at him, just the way he remembered.

"Here I am," he laughed wetly between sobs. He lowered his forehead to hers. "I found you," he whispered. "I'm sorry it took so long,"

"It's alright. I'm here, now," she cooed, swaying with him. She placed a kiss on his forehead like an anointing balm. Music sifted through the walls, slow and deep and warm, enveloping them. Dimitri pulled her close and lead her into a waltz. It was the dance they were supposed to have at the ball that night, but never did, because he had been too busy working himself into a nervous tizzy, afraid to even approach her. He would not make the same mistake again. Not when she was within his grasp once more.

They danced across the room in graceful circles. Somehow, as they moved, the room had filled with students and professors and friends and loved ones, all standing on the sidelines watching them with warm smiles. Their faces blurred with each dizzying spin. He lead and she followed as if she knew his every step before he made it. Like she knew him inside and out. She wasn’t particularly graceful, she grew up a mercenary after all, and like most things she did, she was simple in her movements. And yet that was enough. There was no need for embellishments. She simply moved with him. They were in perfect sync.

Dimitri twirled her under his arm and let her spin out. The most beautiful sound he’d ever heard hit his ears. She laughed. She _laughed._ And it was all for him. He felt such a swell of pride for making her smile that he twirled her again and again, basking in her delight like it was the warmth of the sun. Then he pulled her in and held her close. Forgetting his bashfulness, he pressed his nose against hers. They slowed, and he lost himself in the color of her eyes.

He would not take this for granted. Even if he was no more than a beast and she the goddess incarnate. Even if his filthy hands had no right touching something so good, so pure. He would do what he should have done long ago had he not been such a coward. He lowered his lips to meet hers. He closed his eyes. They brushed ever so gently.

 _Goddess, how I’ve_ waited.

The music cut out.

Dimitri’s fingers slipped through air. The golden light faded from behind his eyelids. When he opened his eyes, the woman in his arms had disappeared. His friends and loved ones were gone. He was left cold and alone.

"Professor!" he called. Frantic, he searched, looking this way and that. But she was gone. There was no sign of her light. No sign of her body.

 _No. Not again!_ He just got her back! She had been in his arms where she belonged! And yet like everything he held dear, he could not keep her there, safe and warm and protected and loved.

Dimitri shivered. Looking around, he realized he had ended up in the Goddess Tower. But it was unlike it had ever been; it was dark and cracked and cold and lonely. Beyond the balcony was nothing but an inky blackness so thick it had sucked away all the stars. Dimitri carefully stepped toward the center of the tower room. Then someone unseen began to speak.

 _"I suppose my wish...is for a world in which no one would ever be unjustly take from us..."_ It was his own voice from all those months ago. And yet it felt like an eternity had passed. He sounded so much younger. His voice was bright with hope.

 _"How pathetic,”_ another voice cut in. Glenn. _“You have no time to waste on boyish fantasies.”_

“Glenn! I’m sorry! I will bring you her head! Do not worry over my resolve!” Dimitri pleaded.

_“And yet we’re still here, Dimitri! Still writhing in pain without our vengeance! How can we trust you after all the time you’ve wasted?”_

“I promise I will bring you that woman’s head! I promise!” He cried. But then he heard his young voice again. _"Perhaps it would make more sense for me to wish that we'll be together forever..."_ And there it was, irrefutable evidence against him.

 _“Yet there you were! Making promises to some wench!”_ Glenn’s voice raged. _“How dare you ignore us? How dare you think your happiness is more important than ours?”_

“Please,” Dimitri fell to his knees. “Please forgive me!”

_“There is no forgiveness. Only revenge.”_

Dimitri heard shuffling in the darkness. It was a scritch-scratching sound that echoed off the cracked walls. Dimitri held his breath. He couldn't tell where exactly it was coming from. But it was getting closer all the same. 

Then, out of the gloom, another voice came, this time, his father’s.

 _“I’m ashamed to call you my son.”_ A dark figure emerged from the shadows, drawing closer. To his horror, Dimitri realized the noise was the sound of dragging feet. It grew louder and louder as the figure drew closer and closer and began to take shape until it was right in front of him. And there was Dimitri’s father just as he last saw him; tall and broad and only a bleeding stump where his head had been.

Dimitri froze. The corpse remained still.

Until it wasn’t.

The headless body trudged toward him, flopping its arms around wildly. Dimitri shrieked and tried to get up to flee, but burned hands shot up through the stone, spreading hellish light out from below. The hands latched onto his ankles. He pulled and pried but they would not give, even to his strength. From the cracks in the stone, the corpses of the rest of his loved ones crawled out. 

There was Glenn, of course, his head almost completely severed off; an attempt by his executors to add insult to injury by mutilating his body. His step-mother was there, too, her once beautiful face now flaking off into ashes. And countless other guards and civilians caught in the crossfire, all sporting their own gruesome wounds. They dragged themselves toward him, moaning in pain. Dimitri stared petrified into their dark, gaping maws and the flesh melting from their faces like wax in thick globs. Their hands tugged him down. Dimitri grasped onto the ledge for dear life. The stone cracked under his desperate grip.

But then, the corpse of his father approached. Dimitri looked up pleadingly at him, hoping for a smidge of humanity left, for the man he'd just seen not moments before. The corpse lifted its foot and stepped on his hand.

Dimitri's fingers slipped, and he fell into the inferno, screaming the whole way down.

* * *

Dimitri shot up. 

He quickly pawed away hands from his ankles and brushed his cloak for flames, but there were none of either. Instead, he found himself sitting in a half-frozen mud puddle. 

Ah, so it had been another dream. 

Dimitri put his face in his hands and laughed mirthlessly. How could he find such things frightening anymore when his life was already a nightmare? No, this was not a figment of his own mind but a sign from the diseased. He had to let go. He was still clinging to his past like a child; the support of friends and family who were gone, the love of a woman who was now a corpse. A woman who never even loved him in the first place. These things were distractions. He should have never even gone to the Officer's Academy. Perhaps some small part of him had always hoped for a chance at happiness, for a hand to reach out to him and lift him out of the darkness. And while he was busy doing that, the dead had suffered. But no longer. He would shed every part of him that wasn't necessary to vengeance. 

He would shed the child in him. He would shed the man in him.

All the dead needed was a beast with only a mind for blood. 


End file.
